If You've Played
by YoungFreak92
Summary: In which French fries are abused, gay Jewish marriages are discussed, couches miss company, porcupines are mentioned, the horrors of anal sex are established, lovesick ogling occurs and food is actually being cooked. House/Wilson


**Title: **If you've played with someone for a while and you suddenly trust each other you might as well get together  
**Author:** YoungFreak92  
**Beta:** Anna looked it over  
**Fandom:** House MD  
**Rating:** G to PG  
**Genre: **Humor  
**Pairing:** House/Wilson  
**Setting:** Any time  
**Wordcount: **1 931  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own _House MD_ or any of the characters. I'm just playing around a bit.  
**Summary:** In which French fries are abused, gay Jewish marriages are discussed, couches miss company, porcupines are mentioned, the horrors of anal sex are established, lovesick ogling occurs and food is actually being cooked.  
**Author's Note: **I finally did one of those book-challenge-fics! g The book I chose was a Swedish book called "Children's thoughts about love" and it is a book of quotes in which children from age 6 to 10 have been interviewed. On a side note, I finally consider myself a "real" fanfiction writer since I now have a fic with a ridiculously long title (why, yes, the title is also a quote). And I surprised myself with writing pure, unabashed _fluff_.

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_**10. You should at least be 18 years old before you get together with someone, because then you have enough money to buy a car and then it's easier to pick up girls -- Jimmi, 9**_

House knew that Wilson loved the Corvette, and he took great pleasure in showing it off in front of his friend at every opportunity available. Wilson_ always _became green with envy. That day however House had decided to be nice, or at least as nice as he would let himself be. He knocked on the door to the hotel room harshly, the banging echoing in the empty hallway. He heard the lock rattle and the door opened, revealing an exasperated Wilson.

"What can be so important that you can't wait for twenty seconds?" Wilson asked surly, obviously bothered over being interrupted on a Saturday night, despite being alone. House noted in his mind that it was almost sad that neither of them had a life.

"Wanna go for a ride?" he asked lightly and dangled the keys to the Corvette in front of Wilson's face. The transformation on it was a delight to watch. The irritation disappeared quickly and was replaced by boyish excitement, then turning into wariness and suspicion before morphing back to exhilaration. House smirked and knew he had won. Wilson disappeared back into the room to grab his jacket, wallet and keys. He then closed the door behind him and followed House.

"Can I drive?" Wilson asked, the hopeful tone in his voice made him sound like a young boy. House masked his smile by turning it into another smirk.

"Don't push your luck," he said, but later, after about half an hour of aimless driving, he and Wilson switched seats in the car.

_**20. Of course you know when you're in love. It's when you stand and just look at him all the time, and you don't hear a word of what the grown-ups say -- Sabrina, 6 **_

House could get so horribly tired of hearing Cuddy tell him off. He could only shut out _that _much of the noise, and sometimes not even her breasts were enough of a distraction. And God forbid him starting to play with one of his toys or looking away, because then she would just become even worse. This time was unfortunately one of those horrible, distraction-less times. Apparently he was responsible for blowing up the MRI or something like that. House dared a glance at the balcony, and was instantly relieved. Looking at Wilson always served as an excellent distraction.

Wilson hadn't seen House yet, or maybe he had heard Cuddy's yelling and promptly ignored the Diagnostic's Office. He was leaning against the railing, a cup of coffee in his left hand and a paper of some kind in his right. The lab coat was absent, the shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the tie was loosened just a bit. The late morning sun provided a warm, soft light that almost created a halo around him. He looked relaxed, wound down.

"I will not put up with this any longer, I... House? House, are you listening to me?" Cuddy demanded and House's head snapped back to her direction.

"Not really," he said honestly. Cuddy looked like she was holding back the urge to strangle him. Glancing back at the balcony, House made a mental note to drop by Wilson's office later that day.

_**30. If you happen to take the same French fry it might happen that you get together -- Katja, 8**_

"... and anyways, that's what happened," House finished as he took a drink of his coffee. Wilson's sigh was heavy enough to be heard over the clatter of the cafeteria.

"One of these days Cuddy is going to kill you, and I'm going to help her," he muttered and pinched the bridge of his nose. House just smirked.

"No way. You love me too much to do that," he said matter-of-factly and Wilson actually took a moment to consider that.

"I might let you hide in my office," Wilson agreed after a few seconds and House's expression became smug. As Wilson took a sip of his coffee House made his move and filched one of his friend's French fries. Unfortunately Wilson had anticipated this move and grabbed the other end of it and a short tug-of-war broke out. It ended a few seconds later when the French fry in question broke in half. The two men glanced at each other, saw the mirth and boyish sparkle in each others' eyes and Wilson made no comment.

_**40. My husband will not have a beard. Only one which isn't visible in that case -- Pernille, 8**_

The beard played a huge part in House's appearance. It was conducive to the scruffiness and a necessary part of the old rock star/homeless drug-addict image House seemed to maintain. Of course, it was also quite appealing if you are into 'rugged good-looks'. Sometimes Wilson did think about how House looked. Not in an inappropriate way or in a way not suited for a best friend, defiantly not. He just objectively established what made House look like House. Wilson knew he was overanalyzing when he thought about how House's stubble made him think of a porcupine. But the resemblance was undeniably there. Both House and the porcupine were prickly, and they both scared off others with threats of pain. Another thing they had in common is that most people aren't that fond of porcupines -- Wilson could count on his hands all the people who liked House. Porcupines are prickly, not very cute, antisocial and sometimes considered a pest. But there are people who like them -- porcupines are really just somewhat of an acquired taste.

When Wilson later told House he wanted to go the zoo and look at porcupines, House stared incredulously at him.

_**50. Sometimes you're alone without a girlfriend. Then you have to cook for yourself -- Magnus, 7**_

House was not a good cook. He wasn't a disaster in the kitchen, but he wasn't good. Food is important -- yes. Food should taste good -- yes. Food should be healthy -- not necessarily. House just couldn't see the point in slaving in the kitchen for an hour to prepare food that was eaten within ten minutes. An hour is a lot of time, time that could be spent reading or playing music or watching TV or something equally meaningful. Though he had to admit that it was quite nice to do something meaningful when someone else clattered in the kitchen. Someone else being Wilson, of course. Only two people had ever been allowed to come and go as they pleased in his home -- Wilson and Stacy. And since the latter was out of his life for good it seemed, only Wilson was left.

That night House was lounging on the couch and played the PSP while he carried a deep conversation with Wilson who was in the kitchen.

"What are you making?" House called and hoped that he was heard over the clatter.

"Something you're going to like," was the light reply. House scoffed, not really caring if Wilson heard it or not.

"You always say that. I bet it's something _orange_," he said and in some inexplicably way he almost _heard _Wilson smiling. Yeah, it was quite nice.

_**60. When you propose you ask the girl; "Wouldn't you like to go to my place and stay there for as long as you want?" -- Thomas, 7 **_

"Have you moved out of that gruesome hotel room yet?" House asked Wilson as they headed for the elevator. Wilson looked at him, a bit surprised.

"No, and why the sudden interest?" he asked, a tiny bit of suspicion in his voice. House pushed the elevator button and didn't meet the other's eyes.

"Just curious," he said lightly, but Wilson -- damn that man -- seemed to have picked up on something.

"You've been inviting me to your place_ very _often lately," Wilson said slowly and tried to meet House's eyes, but no avail. "And you're almost _nice_ when I'm there". Wilson decided to take a chance and aimed for a long shot.

"Do you... want me to move in with you again?" he asked, his tone almost disbelieving. House was silent for a few seconds too long and Wilson became dumbfounded.

"My couch misses you," House eventually grunted, and when he dared a glance at his friend he was met by a brilliant smile.

_**70. I read in the newspaper that they now have made up a new rule so that boys actually are allowed to fall in love with each other - Stine, 8**_

It had happened about a week after that civil unions had been legalized in New Jersey. (Later Wilson would have to commend House for the timing.) They were at the reception in the clinic, Wilson filling in a patient's file while House was complaining about the idiots he'd had to treat that day. Wilson had decided to ignore both the chatter and the man so he missed the look of mischief that briefly flashed across House's face.

"_Really_, dear, we _must _have a classical wedding. A Jewish one_ just _won't do," House said suddenly in a disturbingly effeminate way, his voice loud enough to be heard in the whole clinic. Wilson almost jumped through the roof, his face instantly turning red. House continued booming about wedding plans, fully aware that everyone was staring at him and Wilson. He even went as far as asking Wilson if he should wear a low-cut or not wedding dress. After that comment Wilson was finally pulled out of his embarrassed-induced paralysis and dragged House out of the clinic, silently fuming and red as a beet.

Although, when Wilson looked back at the event, he had to admit that the shocked faces from their co-workers had been hilarious.

_**80. Two gay men can't have children, but there are many who try anyways... -- Nicolaj, 8**_

"No," Wilson said emphatically, hands on hips and with an almost scandalized look on his face, "No way".

"C'mon, why not?" House complained in a whiny voice as he prepared himself to get up from the couch. Wilson looked at him like he couldn't believe his ears.

"Why?" he repeated, incredulous, "Well, first of all it's unsanitary". House was now standing on his two feet and turned and approached Wilson.

"So are blowjobs, but you've never complained," he said casually and a smirk tugged at his lips when he saw Wilson's cheeks flush a little. Wilson cleared his throat and looked at something a little to the left of House's face.

"From what I've heard it's painful," he said, though his voice wavered a little. House snaked an arm around Wilson's waist and pulled him close.

"Just a little, in the beginning. The rest is just pure pleasure," House said as he bowed his head and started to kiss down Wilson's neck. Wilson sighed, clasping and unclasping his hands nervously.

"It's_ gay_," he said half-heartedly after a few seconds.

"And this isn't?" House scoffed into Wilson's collar bone, placing a chaste kiss there. Wilson sighed again, heavier this time.

"Listen... I just really don't want to do it, okay?" he mumbled, almost embarrassed and his whole posture screaming awkward.

"_Wilson_," House whined against the other's neck but Wilson promptly showed him away.

"The answer is 'no', House, and I won't change my mind," Wilson said and gave House a stern look before heading to the kitchen to prepare dinner.


End file.
